Cracked Rear View Mirror
by Jade2099
Summary: With her life spiraling, Elena does the unthinkable in an attempt to take back the control she's lost.  He was always there to catch her when she fell, but will he be able to put the pieces back together once she's broken?  Will he even want to?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Vampire Diaries. I am not LJ Smith, Julie Plec (though we share a first name), Kevin Williamson, or any of the other phenomenal writers of the CW show.

**Author's Notes:** Spoilers through 3x17 – "Break on Through" then AU…my intent is to stay as true as possible to the characters. Feedback is, as always, welcome.

**Summary:** Too many had died because of her, because of who she was and who she loved. With her life spiraling out of control, Elena does the unthinkable in an attempt to take it back. He was always there to catch her when she fell, but will he be able to put her back together once she's broken? Will he even want to?

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><p><strong>Soundtrack:<strong> "Lost in Paradise" - Evanescence

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><p><em>Everything is fine.<em> Her fingers wrapped around the coarse dish towel and gently shook it out over the pristine, white sink before she dried her hands. The open plan dining area once felt warm and cozy bathed in the soft, white light of the morning sun but as her eyes scanned the room her body shivered involuntarily. _Empty._ The sheer stillness of the house unnerved her. In the quiet she could hear every beat of her heart, the puffs of breath escaping from between her lips, and her rampant thoughts as she relived every, single moment of the last three years in a macabre her thoughts as company. _Three years ago, we all sat at this table laughing. Talking about going to Disneyland._

Her heart clenched painfully as she swallowed the lump in her throat, her thoughts reminding her that Mystic Falls was most assuredly _not_ the "Happiest Place on Earth." She was _eighteen years old_ and all alone in this massive home with responsibilities that no eighteen year old should have to shoulder alone. _Alone_. Wadding the cloth in her right hand, she reached out with the other to gently run her fingers along the gentle curve of the chair her father once claimed. Biting back the sob that threatened to rip from her throat, she moved swiftly out of the dining area noting the only sounds were those of her sneakers hitting the hardwood floors and the creaks that accompanied each step. _It hurts just to breathe._

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><p>Alone with his thoughts, Stefan peered vacantly over the top of his glass of bourbon and tried to assuage his guilt. His choices brought him to this place and he wondered how he would ever find his way back to the man he once was. <em>Is it even possible to go back?<em> The moment he'd entered Elena's home the blood called to him like a siren's song. The fog slowly rolled in as his nostrils flared and the white, hot need seeped into every fiber of his being. The predator scented its prey and he wanted nothing more than to lay claim to the body. To feel the warm, liquid pass his lips and slide down his throat as he devoured it in a fit of uncontrollable thirst. _She_ grounded him in a way that only one other person ever had.

"A little early in the day for you, isn't it?" came the biting wit of the darker Salvatore brother as he walked into the library holding a large, awkward parcel wrapped in plain, brown paper.

Stefan waved the glass slightly, the amber liquid sloshing around the heavy crystal, "Just havin' a little toast."

Damon regarded him with a mixture of weariness and intrigue as he made his way around the brown, leather couch to stand in front of his younger brother, "To what?"

His face was a mask of pure indifference; even now he seemed unable to allow his humanity to surface in front of his brother. In spite of everything, Stefan could not fully let go of his "ripper" persona and there were times when in Damon's presence that he simply didn't _want_ to. _One hundred forty-eight years, brother, and I am still waiting for you to end me._ His haunting green eyes seemed to peruse his brother's form, ever the confident swagger, despite his mind's desire not to and it reminded him that their sibling rivalry turned from friendly to deadly a long time ago. Still, this détente between them seemed to at least rebuild some of the camaraderie that was lost the day their father killed them in cold blood all those years ago.

"Control," Stefan responded, his face smug as he looked into his brother's face.

Damon knew that his brother was reaching; hoping that one defining moment of control would somehow be his golden ticket back on the sanity train. The control needed to keep the "ripper" at bay was more than the youngest Salvatore could muster because Damon once found himself in a place _darker_. Stefan's naïveté was _precious_, but not the conversation that needed to be had so Damon opted for plan B._ Play along._

"If you're happy, I'm happy," Damon responded with a quirk of his lips as he tapped the large object in his hand on the wooden floor.

Stefan regarded his brother with cold calculation, his hands clasped in front of him as though the father-figure intent on scolding a wayward son, "Why are you in such a good mood? Sage double crossed you. Tree's a pile of ash. Alaric's got a psychopathic alter ego."

Damon squirmed under his brother's indifference, his patience running thin, "You know Stefan. I'm a philanthropist. I make the world a better place. Restoring bridges. Landmarks. And…"

He reached for the brown paper and ripped it to reveal the newly restored sign commemorating the rededication of Wickery Bridge. Stefan raised an eyebrow lazily, uncertain where his brother was going with this show of bravado.

"Historical signs made of the same white oak as the Wickery Bridge," Damon finished; his tone smug and Stefan could not help but be impressed by his brother's ability to deceive.

Stefan rose from his chair; this was the news he needed to hear, "They think all the wood burned."

Damon's eyes sparked as he gave his brother a sidelong glance, "I sold my rage. You should have seen me."

"We have a weapon," Stefan replied evenly as every fiber in his being itched to tear into the wood an put a stop to the Original family that had ruined his life _once and for all_.

"Game's back on, brother," Damon's eyes bore into Stefan's as his entire body stiffened with a renewed purpose, "Let's go kill some Originals."

After years of trying to keep Elena Gilbert out of harm's way, it seemed as though they had finally gotten the upper hand. As Damon watched his brother walk slowly from the library he realized that he would soon once again be able to leave Mystic Falls behind. _There's nothing left for me here._ Stefan was on the slow track to sobriety; Alaric would forever be taking witchy herbs to keep his _Mr. Hyde_ from making an appearance; and Elena would have the normal life she so desperately craved. His fingers tapped against the white oak sign in a cadence similar to Stefan's earlier attempts to curb his craving, but for _him_ it was not about bloodlust. Damon Salvatore was_ cursed_ to walk the Earth alone for eternity. His ice blue eyes looked down at his fingers in disgust and pulled his mind away from thoughts of _humanity_. He needed a drink.

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><p>The window seat in her bedroom once gave her great comfort as she spent hours looking out the large windows while she sat for hours writing in her diary. <em>Feels like a lifetime ago.<em> The soft white linens with reds and golden hues accenting her room seemed far too innocent against the backdrop of her complicated life. She didn't deserve to be forgiven for her part in this supernatural mess. Her life was not worth more than those of her friends or her family. Her foot began to tap against the padding of the seat as she leaned against the wall, cell phone to her ear, desperate for someone to answer. _Pick up. Pick up. Pick up._

"_Hello?_"

She rubbed her hand against her leg, swallowing the panic as she heard his voice, "Hey stranger."

"_Hey, you checkin' up on me?"_ she could hear the smile in his voice and the peace that came with it.

"Do you need checking up on?" it was so easy to fall into the familiar banter with him that she felt her heart once again ache with loneliness.

"_Well, I'm not flunking any of my classes. Yet. I got a dog."_

He was safe. It was the life she'd hoped he would live the moment he left Mystic Falls. She would go to the ends of the Earth to protect him and _finally_ it seemed as though she had done something right. When she'd uncovered the envelope addressed to Jeremy in that locked drawer at the Loft, it was like a bucket of ice water was dumped over her head. Her brother had died wearing that ring. He was at _risk_. She needed to hear his voice. She _needed_ to know if he needed _her_.

"Hey, have you talked to Alaric lately?" her voice was tentative as she held back the sea of emotions swirling in her mind.

"_Ah, no why? Is everything ok?"_ he always has a knack for knowing when she wasn't telling the entire story.

"Yeah, everything is fine. Um, I just wanted to hear your voice," her eyes began to well up with tears; the realization that he was ok lifted a weight from her shoulders.

He chuckled into the phone, "_Ok. Hey can I call you later? I'm actually on my way out with some of my friends."_

She flinched imperceptibly, shrugging her shoulders as though he could see her through the phone, "Yeah. Uh, of course Jer. Go out. Have fun. Um, I-I just miss you."

_"Yeah. Yeah, I miss you too."_

She fought back the tears as the connection was lost and suddenly it was clear to her that everyone in her life was safe, they had moved on, and all was as it should be. _This is what I wanted_. She had tried to escape reality the night she'd come face-to-face with her mirror image and only managed to complicate things. _That crash should have killed me._ John. Isobel. Jenna. Luka. Jonas. Greta. _Caroline_. _Abby._ Leaping to her feet she crossed the room in three strides and leaned forward against her vanity, her eyes dancing dangerously as she peered at her reflection. Her eyes were red, blood shot, and her hair hung in a curtain around her face. Her lip quivered in anger as she suddenly felt as though she could no longer breathe, her body shaking with the rage, guilt, and sorrow that she'd kept hidden behind the walls of her mind. Elena Gilbert _had_ to be strong. Otherwise, their sacrifice meant _nothing_. _It has to end_.

Her frantic thoughts polarized for a single moment as she pulled back the palm of her hand and slammed it into the glass, shattering her image and sending shards of glass sailing outward and along the vanity itself. A guttural scream tore from her throat, not because several shards of glass embedded themselves in palm causing blood to well and drip to the hard surface below, but because she was furious. Her eyes darted to the crimson liquid pooling around the wound and with viscous intent wrenched the offending objects piece by piece from her body. _No one else dies for me!_

In a fit of rage she swung out, connecting with the perfume bottles and picture frames that sat pristinely before her, mocking her existence, crashed to the floor in a symphony of breaking glass that paralleled the breaking of her heart and mind. Her fingers curled around a large shard of glass that hung loosely from the mirror, the bite of the sharp edges causing her to clench her teeth but her mind would not allow her to register the pain, and wrenched it from its housing. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as her teeth began to chatter, the certainty that _this_ was the _only_ way. No one else would die for her. _No one._ As the glass tore into the tender flesh of her right wrist, gouging a deep wound that would allow her blood to flow freely, a strange sense of peace came over her. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as the hot, sticky liquid dripped to the floor into a pool around her feet. _The human body has ten pints of blood._ It was the last coherent thought she had as she collapsed to the ground amidst a sea of broken glass.

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><p>There was no way on <em>Earth<em> that he had enough patience to deal with Elena right now, but here he was parked outside her home. When he'd left the Boarding House, he fully intended on swinging by Ric's place to keep the teacher company. _It's not every day you find out you're a serial killer_. His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat in his own mind and he found himself looking at his reflection in the rear view mirror. He _knew_ what was happening because it had happened so many times since he'd returned to Mystic Falls. _Fuck._

His _judgment_ was severely impaired when it came to Elena Gilbert and had he been thinking clearly he would have recognized that by feeding her his blood twice these _annoying_ feelings would grow to _unbearable_ proportions. He blamed his sudden _humanity_ on the bond they'd inadvertently formed. He'd _never_ fed a human his blood before returning to Mystic Falls. _Love is a vampire's greatest weakness._ He loved her. He loved her enough to let her go. He'd allowed her to believe he was the bad guy in all of this and to forget that he would _always_ choose her. He could _feel_ her. Truth be told he'd been operating on instinct when he turned down Maple Avenue, an inexplicable force seemed to draw him to her despite his numerous attempts to avoid her over the last few days. _Double fuck._

The faint sound of glass breaking roused him from his internal musings and he froze behind the wheel of his Camaro. The tightness in his chest grew oppressive and he found himself rubbing the plate of bone as though he had a fit of heartburn. _Fucking teenage angst._ His eyes narrowed dangerously as he roughly opened the door, stepping out into the sunlight as his agitation only increased. Steeling himself for the tongue lashing he would certainly receive for imposing his _presence_ upon her royal highness, Damon crossed the road slowly and deliberately. He really wasn't in the mood for a round of _kick Damon_, but some invisible force seemed to be pulling him toward her front door. Damon's internal whining slowly shifted into panic as his feet began to move faster and faster until his fist pounded on the front door. _Something is _very_ wrong._

"Elena!" he bellowed as he pounded on the front door, his fist nearly breaking through the wood.

_Fuck this! She can yell at me for invading her privacy if she wants to!_ A feeling of dread washed over him as he broke the front door and the overwhelming scent of blood wafted towards him. His eyes darted to the top of the staircase and he knew in that moment that had his heart been beating it surely would have stopped. _Elena, what have you done?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Vampire Diaries. I am not LJ Smith, Julie Plec (though we share a first name), Kevin Williamson, or any of the other phenomenal writers of the CW show.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, alerts, and favorites! Onward to Chapter 2!

**Soundtrack:** "Only One" – Alex Band

_Elena, what have you done? _ The words played over in his mind like a broken record as he warred with the torrent of emotions that threatened to consume him. Adrenaline coursed through his body unleashing the more primitive aspects of his nature, yet here he stood, ramrod straight, with his ice blue eyes never drifting from her prone form lying in the stark, white hospital bed. His muscles tightened, tightly wound like a cobra ready to lash out, and his jaw clenched as the only sound to echo through the room was that of his own breathing. The slow, steady cadence of her heart lulled him into this nearly catatonic state that served to stave off the deep seated need to eviscerate the first human being that dare cross his path. _Here we are. Again._ He remembered the last time he'd seen her lying prone in a hospital bed and felt an enormous amount of guilt for not being by her side when she needed him the most. His instincts, at the time, had him carefully removing the IVs from her delicate veins and scooping her into his arms taking her as far away from Klaus as possible. _I don't know how to protect her from this._

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><p><em>He was by her side in an instant, his breath catching as he spied her lying amidst a sea of glass as a pool of blood created a macabre outline of her body against the wooden floor. His face shifted as he brought his wrist to his mouth, poised to sink his fangs into his own vein with the intent to save her young life once again. His incisors scraped the delicate flesh as he dropped to his knees and his entire body froze as his gaze locked on the large gash in her right wrist. He hesitated. <em>Claim her. _Her blood sang to his blood. A low growl erupted from his chest as his eyes turned coal black, rimmed with crimson. Gently he wrapped his fingers around her palm, the flesh separating slightly causing the blood to well up in the wound, and brought it to his own lips. His tongue snaked out, trailing lightly along the wound. Her blood was sweet and tangy, a heady mixture that he had never before experienced in his years on this Earth. He wanted to lose himself in her warmth as time seemed to come to a standstill. The tender skin at her wrist knit together slightly, sealing off the immediate danger, as her heart took a rhythm that seemed to wrench him from his momentary stupor. _Triple Fuck.

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><p><em>We're predators – not puppies!<em> God, he _hated_ her self-righteous indignation and judgmental tendencies. He _blamed_ Stefan. He returned to Mystic Falls in a blaze of glory with perfectly coiffed hair, brooding forehead, and a knack for being forgiven for the most egregious sins. His diet of small, furry woodland creatures served to make him a caricature of his true nature and fueled the belief that being a vampire was something shameful. Stefan was quite skilled at failing to notice his role in his own problems. It was his utter lack of control over his _own_ impulses that led him down the road to being one of the most prolific "rippers" to ever walk the Earth – human or otherwise. No matter how many bodies littered the eastern seaboard, Elena would _never_ give up on Stefan. _It will always be Stefan._

Her smooth, olive skin looked alabaster in contrast with the stark, white hospital bedding and the bruising under her eyes was a vivid reminder that she had almost succeeded in ending her life. _Damn it, Elena! Why weren't we enough?_ He traced the line of her jaw with the back of his fingers, feeling his stomach clench uncomfortably as the warmth he craved was dulled in her current condition. The unspoken question was really why _he_ wasn't enough, but that was not something he wanted to face when he life hung so precariously in the balance. He was unreasonable when it came to her safety and that was restrictive, over protective, and even bullish. It was his life experience that taught him that being _human_ meant that time was finite. She was _so_ young. Her life had barely begun and he risked his _own_ life to see hers fulfilled. _I will always choose you, Elena. Always._

He reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch so gentle and his eyes so full of concern and love for this young woman that it nearly took the breath away of the young doctor that leaned against the metal doorframe. It was clear to her that many of the stories she'd been told were close approximations of the truth that she had yet to uncover. Returning to Mystic Falls, to her home, was an easy choice. _Even the demons have demons._

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><p><em>Her heart skipped a beat, stuttered, and managed to continue pumping what blood remained. His foot connected solidly with the Emergency Room doors, his eyes wide with fear as he questioned the sanity of his decision not to simply feed her his blood back when she lay prone on her bedroom floor. He looked around the room, swinging her body with his movements as he cradled her head to his chest as though afraid that any moment she might shatter into a million pieces. <em>God, I can't lose her. Not now.

_He was wild, his mind caught in a loop of self-preservation and protection. The low growl that emanated from his chest caused several emergency room personnel to back away slowly in fear. His haunting blue eyes, blood-stained white t-shirt, and black leather jacket giving him an aura of an avenging angel. It was breathtaking and horrifying at the same time and defusing the situation had to be their main objective. Her eyes were immediately drawn to him and she felt her heart skip a beat in recognition before her mind processed the sensation. _Damon Salvatore.

_She'd been seven years old when she met the enigmatic vampire while visiting her grandmother in Glasgow. That was nearly twenty-five years earlier and still he haunted her thoughts. He'd asked her gran about a pendant worn by a witch he'd known before he was turned. He'd been desperate. Even at a young age she'd been sensitive to the emotions of others and she'd immediately sensed a deep, overwhelming sadness in the vampire. He looked at her with mild curiosity, a mask of indifference falling as he requested assistance from the McCullough line. Gran told him that she would always be indebted to him for what he had done, but this path was his alone to travel. His anger was palpable, but he left quietly never to return. His eyes haunted her. They drove her into this profession, determined to understand the human mind and its motives. In this moment, Damon Salvatore's only motive was to protect the young woman in his arms. Whether that was out of possession or something more, she didn't know but needed to intervene before a bloodbath ensured._

_ "Mary!" one of the younger interns called out, his dark eyes wide as he held his hands palm forward toward the vampire, "Need a little help here!"_

_ "Let us help you," the young, red-haired woman clad in jeans and a white-lab coat beckoned softly, her hand extended toward him as one would steady a feral beast. _

_Pain lanced through his body, his eyes closing tightly as his face contorted with the sensation. _Elena._ His breathing became labored, his nostrils flared, and his eyes gleamed menacingly at anyone who stepped too close. His eyes narrowed as he watched the delicate porcelain hand extend toward them, suspicious of its intent and desperate for anything that might manage to allow him to regain control. She was familiar to him. _She better not be another of Klaus' siblings. Damned accent. _His next thought was that she was no threat to him and he faltered momentarily as he tried to understand why it seemed to radiate so clearly in his mind._

"_My name is Mary McCullough," she told him quietly, stepping forward slowly as she held his gaze, grounding him, "Let us help you. Let us help _her._"_

_An imperceptible nod signaled Damon's return to some semblance of sanity and immediately Elena was whisked from his arms. He moved towards the activity, but felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. His body stiffened as he felt the telltale chill of another supernatural being and his eyes shifted from blue to gray instantaneously. This was a threat. It needed to be eliminated. Only the cry of anguish ripped from Elena's throat was enough to derail his murderous thoughts as he seemed to size up the woman before him. His head whipped around to see Elena thrashing against the many hands fighting to save her life. _

_Mary swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched him move at inhuman speed toward the young girl. His low voice murmured in her ear in an attempt to calm her before she reinjured herself. Reaching into the pocket of her coat, Mary retrieved a syringe filled with clear liquid. She tapped it several times and then depressed the plunger, ensuring that no air bubbles remained. Before she could even reach the hospital gurney, he had her wrist in an iron grip. She never saw him move and no one else paid any attention to their interactions. He removed the syringe from her hand, the feverish cries of the young woman echoing through the once quiet Emergency Room, and brought it to his nose. Inhaling deeply, Damon nodded once and then replaced it in her hand. Taking this as a sign that he supported her course of action, Mary injected the syringe into a waiting vein without any further delay._

_Calmed, Elena is wheeled out of the emergency room after he is told that she would survive. The words she spoke are lost on him as he attempts to reconcile the surge of power he felt when he touched her. She can feel his eyes on her as she moves around the Emergency Room and into the hallway. For his part, he refuses to leave the girl's side and follows the caravan into a private room away from prying eyes. It is a sight that most on the Council would scarcely believe possible, but she knew better than to believe that vampires could not channel human emotions if desired. She'd seen it. She'd felt it. As she watched the dark haired man slowly lace his fingers into the young girl's it was the _depth_ of his emotions that intrigued her._

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><p><em>This day keeps on giving.<em> His carefully laid plans to destroy the Original Family were currently on hiatus, the one woman that made him_ feel_ was lying in a hospital bed and _another_ of his long line of mistakes stood casually against the door to Elena's room with a look of curiosity that would make a _lab rat_ cringe. He had not recognized her while in the Emergency Room, he blamed it on the bloodlust and overwhelming need to protect Elena, but once he was able to regain some modicum of control over his emotions it all came roaring back to him. _Mary McCullough._

"I'm not surprised she broke," he cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving Elena's face.

Mary folded her arms across her chest and slowly made her way into the room, "You may not be surprised, but you _are_ in shock."

He turned his head towards her slowly, his eyes meeting hers, "It's been a long time since a McCullough _witch_ graced the town of Mystic Falls."

_Avoidance, then. Lovely._ Mary pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and smiled softly. It was a good sign that he remained calm, a sign that despite the events of the evening he was still very much in control of his nature. His impulsive nature often lent itself to a severe _lack_ of control and Mary didn't have the emotional fortitude to manage his complexities at the moment.

"It was time to come home," she told him with a shrug of her shoulders as she dug her hands into the pocket of her lab coat.

He raised an eyebrow then and cocked his head to one side, "Mystic Falls was never_ your_ home."

"Semantics," she waved her hand dismissively and smiled genuinely, "I'll do everything I can for her, Damon."

He nodded imperceptibly as he slowly rose from his place beside the young woman, looking every bit of his one hundred and seventy-two years, "Her name is Elena. Elena Gilbert."

His voice cracked when he said her name, his fingers laced between hers as he once again turned his gaze back to her still form. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Mary was overcome by an intense sense of loneliness and longing from him that only seemed to have amplified in the last three decades. She had always seen through his façade, even in her youth. Her Gran told her stories about their time in the 1920s after he'd followed Sage from Virginia to England in a quest to sow his oats after years of denying his nature. Underneath was a man who loved deeply and recklessly with little regard to himself. It made him loyal. It made him dangerous.

"She will be safe here," Mary began as she watched his demeanor slowly relax at her words, "I will be responsible for evaluating her mental health. I've placed her on an involuntary psychiatric hold for 72-hours. At the conclusion of her stay in hospital, she will be required to attend a minimum of 10 outpatient sessions with me and I can readmit her at any time if she becomes a danger to herself."

He nodded slowly, a wry grin pulling at his lips as he gently placed Elena's hand on her abdomen, "_Great_. Just what I need. _Another_ judgy witch."

He leaned over the railing to place a chaste kiss on Elena's forehead and then turned toward the door to make a hasty exit. He'd not fed in at least a day and he still had Elena's blood all over his shirt sending his senses into overdrive. He needed to call Ric to give him the details of what had happened and to contact the others. The last thing he needed was questions from the peanut gallery about _how_ he'd been unable to stop this from happening. He asked himself that question enough in the last few hours and he'd been unsuccessful at answering it. He needed a drink. Alone. Far away from here.

Before he left the room, Mary reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Damon, why didn't you just give her your blood?"

With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped in defeat, "Because it wouldn't really fix her, doc. Besides. She hates me enough to last an eternity and I couldn't risk that becoming a _reality_ by tying her to me."

She blinked once. Twice. _Elena Gilbert is more than a possession._ Mary knew enough about vampire lore to know that an exchange of blood is an extremely powerful act between a vampire and a human. It spoke volumes about their relationship if he was unwilling to bind her to him – signifying a third exchange of blood. There was time to unravel this mystery and she knew_ exactly_ where to start. _Meredith Fell is about tonight. Let's pay the town gossip a visit._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Vampire Diaries. I am not LJ Smith, Julie Plec (though we share a first name), Kevin Williamson, or any of the other phenomenal writers of the CW show.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, alerts, and favorites! For those of you who are fans of the books, you may have noticed that Mary McCullough is actually taken from the book!verse. In the books, Bonnie Bennett is actually Bonnie McCullough (described exactly how I've described Mary…TVD took some liberties with the characters…which I love far more than the books) who has an older sister, whom we never see, named Mary (a nurse).

Don't worry…this is Delena. Mary is only here to act as a catalyst for some folks, namely Elena. Her arrival has an effect on all of them, but the central theme here is **how** Elena overcomes this rash decision and what part Damon will play. It's a slow burn, so I hope you stick with me.

This chapter deals with the fallout…well, some of it.

**Soundtrack:** "Hometown Glory" - Adele

_From Vampire Hunter to Surrogate Father._ If someone had told him nearly three years ago that he would find himself sitting at the bedside of his dead girlfriend's teenage niece who happened to look exactly like a five hundred year old vampire who sired the very same vampire who turned his wife, well he undoubtedly would have broken a few bones. Rage. It was his constant companion for so long that he almost forgot what it meant to be _human_. He felt the hot sting of tears and cleared his throat in an attempt to mask the well of emotions that seemed to ebb and flow with the moment. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and swallowed the lump in his throat, the room suddenly too confining as he watched the steady rise and fall of Elena's chest. Rage. He was so _angry_ with her for pulling this stunt and thinking that it made a difference in this whole screwed up scenario of her life. _Jenna's sacrifice meant _nothing_ to you!_ He wanted to shake her, to throttle her within an inch of her life for not realizing that _she_ made him a better person. She made _all_ of them a better person. _Losing you would bring a whole world of pain, Elena._

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><p>Dick.<em> Alaric groped for his phone as the shrill ring roused him from his alcohol induced slumber. It was bad enough that Damon managed ditched him at the Grille, leaving him to drink himself into a stupor all on his own, but <em>now_ he chose the exact moment when the sandman claimed him after tossing and turning for an hour to call and apologize! His fingers curled around the phone, his eyes squinting from the brightness of the LED screen and he fumbled with the unlock button in his haste to silence the damn, shrill ringing._

_ "What the fuck do you want, man?" Alaric fumed, his throat felt like sandpaper and his eyes burned as though he'd been in a five alarm fire, "What grand master plan to eviscerate the Original pains-in-my-ass made it so _fucking_ impossible to call? Seriously? Now, you call me at – Jesus Christ! It's fucking 2am! 2am Damon! I just—"_

_ "_Shut up for a second and let me say this only once,"_ Damon's voice cut him off in a tone that brokered no room for argument, "_Elena is in the hospital. I found her in her room. She tried to kill herself. She survived. Master plan thwarted."

"_What?"_ _Ric immediately swung his legs over the side of the bed and switched the lamp on the nightstand on, "Is this some kind of a sick April Fool's joke? Because it's _not_ funny! It's _not_ funny Damon! Why the fuck would you joke—"_

_ "_It's not a joke,_" Damon deadpanned as he cut him off once again, "_Get to the hospital. Room 215. Ask for Doctor McCullough. Or better yet, ask for that psycho doctor lady friend of yours. I think _she_ was on call tonight. I don't remember what with the whole Elena bleeding to death thing._"_

_ "Damon, please tell me this is a joke!" he slowly rose from the bed, his voice growing quieter as his alcohol addled brain seemed to finally processed the information he was being given._

_ "_You need to call the Scooby Gang,_" Damon told him evenly, his voice wavering slightly before he cleared his throat in an attempt to cover up the slip in his emotions._

_ "I don't believe you," Alaric pressed as he began to pace the confines of the room, afraid to take a step into the hallway and discover that he'd been too drunk to realize anything amiss._

_ Damon sighed on the other end of the phone and the sound of leather shifting made its way to Alaric's ears, "_Go to her room. Glass all over the floor. Dried pool of blood-_"_

_ "No!" Alaric growled, his eyes narrowing in determination as he pulled open the bedroom once used by Elena's parents and stalked across the hall._

_ "_Hell of a mess,_" Damon told him with a bit of snark._

_ Alaric through the door open and gasped in horror at the destruction, "How can you be like this? How can you be so _fucking_ cold? God damn it! How do you know that it wasn't an attack? It looks like a God damned war zone—"_

_ "_It wasn't an attack. She was lying in a pool of her own blood. Her wrist was gouged. She was holding on to the broken glass in the other,_" Damon responded evenly with a detachment that made Ric's blood run cold._

_ "Don't you _dare_!" Ric snarled into the phone, spit flying everywhere as he turned on his heel and slammed the door so hard that it shook the house to the foundation, "You don't get to tell me this and then turn it off. No _fucking _way_!"

_"_Call Team Elena,_" Damon urged as he once again shifted, "_She'll need them._"_

_ Taking the stairs two at a time he flew to the main floor, grabbing his keys from the counter as he kept the phone to his ear, "_You _call them. Why aren't you there? Why the hell didn't you just force your blood on her and make this all go away? You've done it for less noble reasons before, why stop now?"_

_ It was a cheap shot. Ric knew it the moment the words left his mouth, but in that moment of "fight" or "flight" he wanted to throttle the vampire he'd grown to call a friend. He wanted to hurt him in a way that would somehow knock some sense. Ric knew Damon too well and whatever went down was enough to shake the vampire to his core. A shaken Damon was a deadly Damon._

_ "_Because I couldn't tie her to me, Ric._"_

_ The words were spoken so quietly that Ric had to stop moving just to catch them, "What did you say?"_

_ "_I said that I didn't want to tie her to me,_" Damon sighed and cleared his throat, "_I've had her blood twice. She's had mine twice. Vampire bonds, Ric. Didn't Isobel _share_ her research over pillow talk?"

_Ric turned the key in the ignition and pealed out of the driveway, his eyes hardening at Damon's cheap shot, "We all know you're a dick, Damon. Why do you insist on proving us all right?"_

_ "_Because every once in a while you need a reminder of what I am._"_

_ Ric frowned as he broke every traffic law in the state of Virginia, speeding through red lights and stop signs on his way to Mystic Falls Hospital, "Where are you Damon?"_

_ "_I pulled off the road for a bite to eat._"_

_ Slamming on his brakes as he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, Ric let out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, "Don't do this, Damon. She's alive. Right? She's alive! Right?"_

_ The panic in Ric's voice seemed to reach his friend who merely responded softly, "_Yes. She's alive. She needs you now._"_

_ "She needs _you_ too, asshole. Don't do something stupid! Don't do something you'll _regret_!" Ric yelled into the phone as he slammed the door to his car with a force that would rival a hybrid and sprinted through the double doors of the emergency room._

_ "_Too late,_" were Damon's cryptic words before the line went dead and Ric was left holding his phone in utter shock and disbelief._

* * *

><p>He threw open the door to the Boarding House with a force that nearly ripped it from its hinges. He should <em>never<em> have come back here. Not when he felt this raw, this emotional. _This out of control_. Stalking into the library, he immediately ripped open one of the many liquor cabinets strewn throughout the house and grabbed the first thing he could wrap his fingers around. With a guttural cry he launched a heavy decanter filled with his favorite vintage of bourbon straight into the fireplace. The flames burst outward and receded, the perfect imagery to match his mood. Every fiber in his being is hyper aware of his surrounding and the words _hunt_, _kill_, and _feed _are on continual playback in his mind. As his fingers wrap around another glass his breathing becomes erratic as though suffering from a panic attack. He _misses_ being human. He can't change what he is and he _misses_ the freedom of _being_ who he is.

A strangled cry erupts from his lips as his fist connects with the wall and shatters several of the bricks that lay behind the wooden structure. _Why did Stefan come back here?_ Damon ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he began to pace the length of the room. It was _because_ his brother felt the need to rekindle a human life that he'd long ago abandoned in favor of excess, debauchery, and mayhem out of some misguided need to _atone_ for being what he was. He was _tired_ of the excuses, the brooding, and denials. He was _tired_ of Saint Stefan, the caricature that served to fool the public while the _true_ Stefan Salvatore lay in wait just beneath the surface. He would never have returned to Mystic Falls if his brother had simply let things lie and allowed him to die in peace. _I need to get out of here._

* * *

><p><em>Damon Salvatore had a knack for running when things became difficult. He deserted the Confederacy when it became clear that he was on the losing side and the promise of a warm, sweet woman was more appealing than death on the battlefield. When Stefan basked in the debauchery that being a vampire provided, he packed up a suitcase and left Mystic Falls under the guise of anger, disgust, and disappointment. Fifty years later, he allowed Stefan to succumb to his own urges; unleashing "the ripper" and he honestly found that he couldn't care less. A century later he found that he<em> cared_ to the point that he was a _liability_. Ironic. His methods weren't always clean and he made it quite clear that he didn't care about collateral damage because his priority was Elena. _It would always be Elena.

_ He breathed deeply through his nose, his eyes closing momentarily as he struggled to gain control over his overwhelming need to hunt, to feed, and to kill. As the Camaro hugged one of Mystic Fall's many curves, Damon Salvatore found himself at a crossroads as he happened upon a stranded traveler on the side of the road a short distance ahead. He slowed down, his eyes turning dark as the telltale veins made a brief appearance, and rolled down his window as a young woman ran up to the passenger side door._

_ "Oh thank God!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her waist, "I hit a deer or something. No one has been by here for _hours_!" _

_ Damon put the Camaro in park, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips as he opened his door, "Let's take a look."_

_ "Thank you!" she smiled through watery eyes as she led him back over to her car._

_ She was about nineteen and had short, dark auburn hair that framed a heart-shaped face. _Too trusting_. Damon moved at inhuman speed and pinned her body to her car, his eyes shifting from ice blue to coal black in an instant. She screamed, her hands coming up to beat his chest but it had no effect. God, he loved the chase. The smell of fear. The way the blood rushed just beneath the surface. It was intoxicating. He felt his fangs drop as her shrill screams echoed through the night and then he made a fatal mistake. He looked into her eyes. _Fuck.

_ Several minutes later, Damon wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth and sighed as he waved to the young girl in his rear view mirror. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he plucked the blood bag from the seat next to him and he once again cursed Elena Gilbert for her influence. The clock in his car told him that he'd been on the road for over an hour and he'd put off calling Alaric long enough. He pulled out his phone, scrolled through the contacts, and waited for the telltale ring._

* * *

><p>Being roused in the middle of the night by the sound of shattering glass or splintering wood was not entirely foreign to Stefan Salvatore. He did, after all, live through the 60s where free love and living free equated to one <em>hell<em> of a party. His mouth felt like sandpaper and his head throbbed as though he'd been on a week-long bender. _Hunger_. It was an ever present force in the back of his mind urging him forward, enticing him with the promise of the next high and feeling of being a God amongst men. Power was seductive. The rush he felt when his victims realized that he was _death_ gave him a high that he relished in a way that unnerved him. He relished control and the irony of his existence was that the moment he was turned he'd lost _any_ semblance of it. With a groan he swung his legs over the side of the bed earning an irritated sigh from the person occupying the other half of his bed. _Damon better have a good explanation for this._

Damon's temper was legendary as a human and that only amplified once he turned. The level of destruction that Stefan walked into was unlike anything he had seen before. Books that once lined the many shelves of the library littered the floor, many tattered beyond repair. The old lead crystal decanter that held a vintage of bourbon favored by both his father and brother lay shattered at the base of the fireplace, the smell of alcohol wafting through the air. _Elena_. From the beginning she was able to uncover bits and pieces of Damon's humanity despite his attempts at keeping them buried. Being the doppelganger of the woman he'd pined away over a hundred years for had started their unlikely friendship but in the end Damon saw through those similarities in ways that Stefan could not. _She'd forgive him nearly anything_. It was _infuriating_. His blood boiled when Damon brought Elena to Chicago. Neither was willing to leave him _despite_ the fact that he truly _did not want to_ return to Mystic Falls. In the end, Stefan fully recognized that Damon was in love with Elena and that she, in turn, had feelings for his older brother. The problem was that neither would act on those feelings until _he_ gave them his blessing. _No way in hell._

"Hello brother," Stefan leaned against the doorway, smug look on his face as he folded his arms across his chest, "Original Barbie cut you off after bleeding you dry? I thought there might be a glimmer of hope for you two after the way she simply _let you go_."

Damon whirled around, eyes blazing as the glass in his hand shattered and joined the set that littered the floor. He felt as though he couldn't breathe. His rigid control was slowly slipping away no matter how hard he fought to maintain it. Destroying glass after glass, book after book, chair, table, lamp, and even his prized Persian rug did nothing to quell the rage inside him. Elena Gilbert: Savior of the cursed and the damned. It was _because of_ the cursed and the damned that she was lying in a hospital bed unconscious. It was _because_ of the cursed and the damned that she'd died in an archaic ritual at the hands of a sociopath with _mommy issues_. It was _because_ of the cursed and the damned that the entire supernatural world knew of the doppelganger's existence. _She tried to take her own life._

"You _had_ to come back to Mystic Falls! _You_ had to _atone_ for being a vampire like it was something _shameful_! Rather than _learning_ control you relished in your _lack of it_!" Damon roars as his eyes lock with his younger brothers and closed the distance between them.

Stefan pushed off the doorway, his smug look hardening with every word and he wondered where the hell this outburst was coming from, "What the _fuck_, Damon?"

"That's right, little brother," Damon snarled, "How does it feel? How does it feel to know that you almost killed her? _Again_!"

The blood in Stefan's veins ran cold at the implications but he felt as though he'd come into the last five minutes of a movie that he should somehow already know the plot to, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"_Elena_," Damon hissed as he took a swing at Stefan, narrowly missing the younger vampire's jaw.

Stefan sidestepped Damon's right hook and the cold reality washed over him that his brother wasn't simply angry, he was _unhinged_, "Damon. Calm down. What happened? What happened to Elena?"

Damon grabbed two fists full of Stefan's white t-shirt and slammed him into the wall, "_You_ happened. _The Originals_ happened. _Everything_ happened."

Stefan mirrored his brother's pose, grabbing a hold of him by the front of his leather jacket, "You're not making any sense!"

"She tried to kill herself!" Damon snapped as he landed a solid punch to Stefan's jaw followed by a blow to his abdomen.

Momentarily stunned, Stefan found himself unable to retaliate as this new information absorbed in his already addled brain. _Suicide?_ _Elena?_ He felt his body double over and he spit the blood that pooled in his mouth as he received blow after blow. It wasn't possible. Damon had to be mistaken. _Damon isn't here at the moment._ It was that thought that brought him out of his stupor long enough to land a single punch that sent the older vampire sprawling backward into the wall.

Damon wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes blazing as the sound of glass rubbed against the wooden floor. He reached for one of the splintered legs from an end table that Stefan had found during his "ripper" years in Chicago. It needs to end. He had to make it end. It was _going_ to end.

The first moments as a vampire are the most brilliant. Everything is brighter, louder, and faster. It is said that the last moments are meant to flash in front of your eyes with the final beat of your heart. Stefan wasn't certain that his life flashed in front of his eyes as a human when his father lodged a bullet in his heart, but he was certain that this moment would be ingrained in his memory for the rest of eternity. He likened it to watching a car crash so horrific that it was impossible to move or to turn away from the sheer magnitude of it. He saw the stake being thrown forward and _finally_ understood the depth of his brother's emotions – the depth of his _humanity_. _I am sorry, brother, that I did not see that you were just as broken as I was._

Damon felt an iron grip wrap around his wrist, the jagged edge of the stake centimeters from piercing his brother's chest, and he growled in frustration. His wrist twisted at an inhuman angle and he ground his teeth together to keep from crying out in pain as he tried to break free. _Fire and Ice_. He stumbled backward as his eyes locked on chocolate brown, narrowed in white hot fury, and relinquished his hold on the weapon in his hand. Blinking several times his head seemed to clear momentarily and his eyes widened at the realization that he had just attempted to end his brother's life.

"Stefan!" Damon whispered as he shook his head, his eyes watering on their own accord.

Stefan held a hand up to stop his brother from saying another word, "Damon, sit down."

"He tried to kill you, Stefan."

"Not _now_ Katherine!" Stefan growled as he stepped from behind her protective posture.

She grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him back slightly, "What the hell is wrong with him?"

Stefan pulled out of her grip and grabbed his brother by the upper arms, "Damon, I need you to sit down."

"I tried to kill you," Damon marveled as he looked his brother straight in the eye, "I wouldn't have actually done it before."

Stefan rolled his eyes and nodded to Katherine, "Tell me what happened, Damon."

"Elena tried to kill herself. Ric is at the hospital now. I couldn't give her my blood. It would have bound her to me, Stefan."

"That explains this," Katherine interjected as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Not helping," Stefan growled through clenched teeth as she simply shrugged her shoulders and sashayed over to them both.

Katherine rolled her eyes and plunged two syringes into Damon's neck, "Fine. Here's me helping."

"_Jesus_ Katherine!" Stefan leaped backward as Damon slumped to the ground unconscious.

"Did no one teach you the basics of being a vampire?" she quirked an eyebrow as she traced the outline of his jaw.

"I'm afraid my _sire_ abandoned me to other pursuits and failed to leave the handbook," Stefan replied stiffly.

"Bloodsharing is an intensely intimate act but between a _human_ and a vampire it causes all sorts of complications. Damon's control is legendary. His go at Fatal Attraction means that he fed Elena his blood more than once."

"Twice that I know of," Stefan frowned as he folded his arms across his chest, his brother momentarily forgotten, "without her consent."

"Explains why he didn't want to do it a third time without her consent. He feels what she feels, Stefan. She tried to kill herself. Do the math."

Stefan rubbed his temples at the implication and released a heavy sigh, "Lock him in the cellar until I get back. _No_ games."

Katherine smirked devilishly and bat her eyelashes as she leaned in to steal a kiss, "Me? Play games?"

"Katherine," he warned as he cupped her face firmly, his eyes boring into hers.

She held her hands up in defeat and rolled her eyes, "You can be such a buzzkill."

Stefan chuckled warmly and squeezed her shoulder before turning on his heel. He needed to get to the hospital and find out from Ric exactly what happened. Seeing his brother fall apart like that is something that he certainly did not want to experience again. After checking on Elena he would see what Bonnie knew about vampire bonds. He may be sleeping with Katherine, but he only trusted her when he had eyes on her and when it came to Damon she was the _last_ person he could trust. _Christ I need a drink_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Vampire Diaries. I am not LJ Smith, Julie Plec (though we share a first name), Kevin Williamson, or any of the other phenomenal writers of the CW show.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you once again for your awesome reviews, story alerts, and favorites! Apologies for the late update…I struggled where to end this particular chapter…so…I did. Next one will be up sooner than this one.

**Soundtrack:** None

_Ugh. Hurts._ That was the first coherent thought as she rose out of the warmth that enveloped her and thrust her into the cold reality that she had _failed_ in her attempt to end her own life. All of the oxygen seemed to have left her brain, which was the only explanation for the dull throb that sent white, hot stars behind her eyes every time she attempted to move. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she felt as though a cotton ball was wedged behind her tongue and every muscle in her body seemed to protest with the smallest exertion. _Ten rounds with the Original Bitch would be more pleasant._

A soft groan escaped her lips alerting those in the room that she was regaining consciousness. She heard the rustle of clothing, the squeak of tennis shoes against tile, and then felt a large, rough hand slip into hers. _Perfect. Just perfect._ She was not alone and that meant she would have to explain her actions. A surge of anger coursed through her addled mind as she scrunched her eyes closed tightly. She was suffocating and no one seemed to notice.

"Elena?" the gentle voice of the man she had grown to consider family over the last two years coaxed her from her state of unconsciousness, "C'mon Elena. We're here. We're _right_ here."

He sounded so incredibly broken and Elena imagined that there would be dark circles under his eyes, day old stubble across his chin, and a bone weariness within him that was palpable. _She_ had caused this. _Isobel. Jenna. Crazy alter ego._ The ring passed down from Gilbert to Gilbert had flipped a switch in her history teacher that altered his life _forever_. _Cursed. I'm cursed._ Her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her, gathering the material and twisting it as her heartbeat began to pick up speed within her chest. With short, quick breaths her eyes flew open as her body began to shake as she found herself within the throes of a panic attack.

"Elena!" Caroline cried out as she quickly grabbed Elena's upper arms, steadying her friend as she thrashed about on the bed, "You're ok! You're safe!"

Tears slid down Elena's cheeks in earnest, her eyes wild with fear as she tried desperately to control the need to crawl out of her own body. She _wasn't_ safe. She would never_ be_ safe. Not anymore. This was_ her_ fault! _ I should have listened to him._ Her eyes darted around the room and connected with each of her friends: Tyler, arms crossed standing in the corner out of the way in an attempt to remain impassive but the small tremor of his jaw betrayed his attempt to turn it all off; Alaric, face worn and tired as though he'd been here for days; Caroline, who's wide blue eyes seemed to search her own for some sign that everything would be ok. _Nothing is ok._ It was then she noticed the final occupant in the room and her heart plummeted.

"Jer?" Elena asked her voice hoarse from disuse.

He closed the distance between them in three short steps, his arms reaching out for her as his eyes reflected the pain and disappointment he felt with finding her here. Her head shook slowly from side to side as her bottom lip began to tremble. _He shouldn't be here._ He reached out to brush a tear from her cheek, unsure what else he could do to protect her and wondered where those who _could_ protect her actually were at a time like this. He'd flown in from Colorado the second Caroline called him and once she confessed to their plan to keep him from Mystic Falls there was nothing anyone could do to keep him from leaving. Elena looked at him so pitifully and in the next moment her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the darkness consumed her.

* * *

><p><em>Christ!<em> His fingers dug into the coarse dirt as he struggled to pull himself up to a kneeling position. Spitting the offensive Earth from his mouth he forced open his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn't. Blinding white light seared his eyes as a pain lanced through his head causing him to grasp either side in a futile attempt to cease the incessant throbbing behind his eyes. His stomach rolled in a manner that he'd not felt in nearly 150 years and he moaned in agony, clenching his eyes shut as he fell back to the floor. _Elena._

"Vervain's a _bitch_ isn't it?" the sexy kitten voice of a woman that he had no patience and no strength to deal with at the moment met his ears, causing the intensity of the throbbing to increase.

"So are you," he ground out as he rolled onto his back, his hands still pressed firmly at his temples as he willed his body to cooperate.

"Ouch," she chuckled as she dragged a skeleton key across the bars that kept him tucked away in the recesses of the Salvatore basement, "Always biting the hand that feeds you, Damon. Or is that _Elena_ talking?"

With a feral growl he lunged at the heavy door, his eyes flashing dangerously as he reached out to wipe the smirk from her face. A low, throaty laugh erupted from her lips, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she effortlessly stepped back to avoid his outstretched arm. The elder Salvatore caught her eye instantly. He radiated a joyful exuberance that no one who met him could resist. It was his innocence she coveted more than anything and she used Stefan as her weapon of choice. _I always get what I want._

"Leave Elena _out_ of whatever sick game you're playing!" he roared as he tried to somehow slip through the small bars on the door.

"So testy," Katherine drawled as she tapped the key to her fingertips, "You're playing with fire, Damon."

"What do you want, Katherine?" he sneered as he stepped away from the door and stumbled backward.

Raising an eyebrow she stepped forward and cocked her head to one side, "Sleep it off, Damon. It's _safer_ for you_._"

Damon punched the wall, his patience growing thin, "No more _games_!"

Katherine raised an eyebrow at his antics and put her hands up, palm forward, "Bonds are dangerous for our kind, Damon. If she had _succeeded_ it would have been the end of you."

His nostrils flared as a mask of indifference slid effortlessly across his face, his eyes the only part of him betraying the raging emotions he felt, "We're _not_ bonded."

Katherine chuckled mirthlessly as she ripped open the door, stormed in, and plunged another syringe into Damon's neck without batting an eye, "If you think _that_, Damon. You're a bigger fool than I thought."

_This complicates things._ Katherine watched with a feigned indifference as his knees buckled and connected with the dirt floor. His eyes met hers with a fury that caused her to involuntarily step back as he swayed precariously before falling forward in an unconscious heap. Slowly she crouched beside him and reached out to run her fingers though his hair as a brief pang of sympathy for the fallen man rushed through her. _This will_ not_ end well._

* * *

><p><em>The heady scent of roses carried through the cool spring breeze as her fingers grasped a handful of her skirts and she ran through the back garden. A stone wall covered in ivy and a lone tree threatened to box her in as she looked over her shoulder, eyes sparkling and giggling as he closed the gap between them.<em>

_ "You have to chase me!" her smile wide and carefree as she changed direction, narrowly missing his strong arms, "You're meant to catch me!"_

_ He was tall, strong, and he enjoyed the chase which made her long for his company. Every bit the nobleman, he catered to her whims as only a man smitten could and it filled her with feminine pride. The power she held over _two_ of the most powerful men in England made her strong, made her desirable. Her eyes darkened as she took in his form, his brown, leather breeches hugging every aspect of his body as a heavy brown tunic respectably hung to his hips. He exuded raw power. _

_ "Well, if I catch you the game will be over," he smiled as he held his arms wide in surrender, walking over to where she stood._

_ With a heavy sigh she lowered her eyes and chuckled, "Thank you for entertaining me."_

_ He would not meet her eyes as he grasped the front of his belt, kicking the grass sheepishly and masked his true feelings, "Ah, you looked lonely inside and I took pity on you."_

_ Her mouth wide as a smirk tugged her lips; she placed her hands behind her back and risked making eye contact with the man before her. His boyish charm intrigued her in a way that his brother never could. There was calmness about him, a mystery that made her feel comfort and protection though she never understood exactly how that came to be._

_ "Klaus promised to spend the day with me, but he never returned home from the night," she confessed as a look of disappointment and hurt flashed across her features._

_ "Klaus does not live by any rules but his own," he replied as he looked straight ahead, his body rigid at the mention of his brother._

_ "He is a very charming man," she replied diplomatically though her eyes betrayed the loneliness she felt in her heart and the rejection that was foreign to her, "Hard for any woman to resist, I suppose."_

_ "And yet?" he challenged and turned toward her, the look of cautious optimism clearly etched on his proud face as he held himself tall._

_ She shook her head slightly, her gaze far away as she contemplated his words, "I know not why he courts me. He seems to not care about me at all."_

_ He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes watching her carefully, "Many a union has been built on much less."_

_ "Is it wrong to want more?" she asked quietly, her eyes searching for any sign that he may feel more than a casual fancy._

_ He unfolded his arms and joined her on the stone bench, "Do you have more with Trevor?"_

_ "Trevor believes that he loves me but true love is not real unless it is returned," she explained in hopes that he would understand her underlying meaning, "Do you agree?"_

_ His eyes were vacant for a moment, his mind considering his next words carefully, "I do not believe in love, Katerina."_

_ With a shake of her head she said barely above a whisper, "That is too sad for me to accept, my Lord. Life is too cruel. If we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?"_

_ A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he contemplated her words. She knew that the two brothers were at odds and his words were meant to shield him from the reality that she would ultimately choose Klaus. As he sat a mere foot from her she could have sworn she felt a sense of melancholy that was not her own. Her eyebrows knit together as she placed a hand on her chest; her eyes welling with the sting of tears as the weight of it nearly suffocated her._

_ "You should not be able to sense my feelings, Katerina," he told her quietly, his eyes seeming to drink in her very presences as he finally shifted his body towards her._

_ "How is this possible?" she asked in wonder as she reached out to gently cup his face with her delicate fingers._

_ He averted his gaze to the ground, shame flooding him as he shifted uncomfortably, "I should not have given you my blood."_

_ She recoiled as though she had been stuck and blinked back the tears, "I see."_

_ He reached out to take her hands in his and he shook his head, "No, you don't. An exchange of blood can be simply that. An exchange."_

_ "But?"_

_ "When the intent is mutual, a bond can be formed," he replied quietly as he looked deeply into her eyes._

_ "Intent?" Katerina shook her head slightly, his words causing her heartbeat to pick up speed._

_ He shrugged his shoulders, his long hair tumbling over his shoulders, "It is rare to form a bond with a single exchange, Katerina. Love, you see, must be reciprocated. To bond, there must be love. The initial stirring of emotions can be felt for hours after an exchange, but when the blood is out of the system and the feelings remain –"_

_ "A bond is formed," she marveled and smiled widely, unable to believe her good fortune, "Elijah! Does that mean—"_

_ "Yes. We have formed the initial bond," he replied softly as he tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear._

_ She laughed heartily then and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, "I knew it would be too sad to accept that you do not believe in love for you _do_ love me!"_

_ A rustle caught Elijah's attention and immediately he rose to his feet, his eyes wide as he looked upon the face of his brother. She turned her head to marvel at the site – Niklaus with shirt unbuttoned, blood staining its pure whiteness from collar to tail. A shiver sliced through her as she watched Elijah appear as though caught in a compromising position. The smile on Niklaus' face masked his true feelings and Katerina realized that she had probably misjudged her hold on the brothers. She needed to find an exit strategy despite her feelings for Elijah. No one else would see to her survival so that meant she had to use every trick to ensure she succeeded. _Tread carefully, Katerina. That is the smile of a wolf.

* * *

><p><em>I shouldn't be here.<em> Alaric rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate the pressure behind his eyes. The moment Elena lost consciousness; he knew that the carefully constructed peace that he'd enjoyed prior to the arrival of her friends would be shattered. He blamed Damon. If the bastard were _vampire_ enough to be here then he wouldn't have had to deal with five hormonal, angry, and frightened teenagers. Teaching them was bad enough. Listening to them argue in heated whispers, casting accusatory and conspiratorial glances his way, was more than his patience could handle. He'd done as Dr. McCullough and Damon had asked – he'd told her friends that he'd found her in her room bloodied and broken. He didn't fully understand why he was putting himself in the position of the potential attacker, though he doubted either thought of that little scenario. Leave it to Team Elena to jump to judgment. _Crazy psycho alter-ego or not, I would never hurt Elena. The rest of you? That's another story._

"You know I'm _sitting_ right here," he groaned as he ran a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to relieve the tension that radiated through his neck.

_Suffocating._ All eyes turned towards him in near perfect synchronicity and they at least had the courtesy to appear embarrassed by their behavior. The only person that seemed to give a _damn_ about his circumstances was lying in a bed in the next room unconscious - _again_. He would always _be _the outsider in this group, much like Damon. _Christ, see what you've done, Elena? Sympathy for the biggest dick of a vampire that ever lived. _

"Alaric," Caroline approached him tentatively, her brow furrowed in concern as she reached out a hand to gently squeeze his shoulder, "Are you doing ok?"

His head snapped up at her words and rolled his eyes, "I don't know Caroline. Let me think about it for a second. Nope. No overwhelming urges to take out another member of the Founder's Council – living_ or_ dead."

"Hey!" Tyler snarled as he pushed off his place against the wall, his eyes flashing yellow as he grabbed Alaric by the shirt and hoisted him to his feet, "She doesn't _deserve_ that."

"Back off man," Alaric grabbed Tyler's wrists, his entire body itching for a fight as he stared down the hybrid.

"Tyler!" Caroline blinked in fright, startled by his sudden movement as she moved to restrain him, "Let him go!"

"That's enough!" a feminine voice boomed over the chaos causing everyone in the waiting area to jump, "What the bloody hell has gotten _in_ to all of you?"

Tyler reluctantly released his grip on Alaric and turned his attention to Caroline, "I've been here too long. I need to go."

"_No!_" Caroline squealed as she used all of her strength to keep Tyler rooted in place, "You _can't_ leave here. You _know_ what will happen if you do."

"Care," Tyler sighed as he reached out to gently cup her face, his eyes soft and apologetic, "You know that I have no choice."

"He'll just come after her," Caroline let him go, resigned to the inevitable as she folded her arms across her chest, "And _then_ what? She was _attacked_, Tyler. She almost _died_! If he gets—"

"Dr. McCullough!" Alaric interjected as he quickly rose to his feet, for the first time registering the room's newest occupant, "How is Elena?"

Mary's eyes narrowed as she watched the interaction between the blonde and the dark haired boy with interest, "Would someone mind explaining to me what this is about?"

"Klaus," Meredith interjected as she stepped out of Elena's room, her hands digging into the pockets of her lab coat, "Alaric, she's asking for you."

Alaric nodded curtly, his eyes betraying the enormous sense of guilt he felt for harming her all those nights ago. Her face softened as she reach out a hand to gently squeeze his arm as he moved past her, a silent gesture that she still had faith in him. If only he had faith in himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Vampire Diaries. I am not LJ Smith, Julie Plec (though we share a first name), Kevin Williamson, or any of the other phenomenal writers of the CW show.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you once again for your awesome reviews, story alerts, and favorites! Apologies for the long wait in updates. It's been…a rough month. Thank you, as always, to the wonderful _CreepingMuse_ who I can always count on to bat an idea around and to give me a gentle kick when I need it.

**Soundtrack:** "Wonderwall" – Ryan Adams

* * *

><p>Walking away is easy. You put one foot in front of the other until all you can see is the whole world in front of you. Letting go. Now, that was a whole different story. Elena closed her eyes as the unbidden tears once again threatened to spill. She <em>hated<em> being so emotional. She _hated_ feeling so out of control. She _hated_ feeling like the rug was about to be pulled out from underneath her. Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, she ran a finger along the tight, white bandage that hid the evidence of her desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control over her life. She _hated_ being a pawn.

* * *

><p><em>She woke with a start, her mind racing as it always did when she was wrenched from the warmth that the darkness seemed to provide. Her heart pounded in her ears, her pulse raced, and as she moved her arms she realized that she was restrained. The loud wail of the heart monitor roused the room's occupants from their momentary slumber and they immediately jumped to her side. They couldn't understand – <em>wouldn't_ understand why she had to do it. Frantic voices called out to her to calm herself as strong hands tried to push her back to the bed. A guttural cry wrenched from her lips as she fought against them. Trapped. She was trapped._

* * *

><p><em>Four days, seven hours, and thirty six minutes. <em> The tips of her fingers brushed against the bandage around her wrist, stark white against her olive skin, and she fought the urge to rip the offending object off in an attempt to finish what she'd started. Her eyes flitted to the old, brass wall clock hanging above her bed with its large numbers mocking her as she tried desperately to stop her knee from bouncing in frustration. The clock was a relic. It had to be broken. Closing her eyes in an attempt to calm her nerves, she leaned against the cool pane of her hospital room window. _Four days, seven hours, and thirty nine minutes._

* * *

><p><em>"Meredith!" Elena's eyes darted around the room as she struggled against her restraints, her heartbeat racing once again as the panic threatened to consume her, "Please!"<em>

_ "Elena," Meredith began quietly, her hand resting on top of Elena's as a sad smile graced her soft features, "Dr. McCullough is a member of the Founder's Council. Carol Lockwood specifically asked her to return to Mystic Falls when Bonnie Bennett foolishly harnessed the power of a hundred dead witches. You can talk freely with her – you should talk to her."_

_ "No!" Elena cried out, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes darted to Ric, "Please! Ric, you have to get me out of here! You have to get me out of here! Please!"_

_ Ric felt a moment of panic, but the gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him from doing anything foolish, "This is the best place for you, Elena. Talk to Dr. McCullough."_

_ Elena swallowed the lump in her throat as her chest heaved in direct proportion to the adrenaline coursing through her veins, "My necklace—"_

_ "Gone," Mary told her gently as she reached out to brush a lock of hair out of Elena's face, tucking it behind her ear, "The safest place for you in Mystic Falls, Elena Gilbert, is right here in this room."_

_ "You don't understand!" Elena growled through clenched teeth, her nails digging into her palms creating half-moon circles in her tender flesh._

_ "Vervain will not help you, Elena. Not here. Klaus will not be able to cross this threshold and no one will be able to violate your mind," Mary placed a gentle hand on Elena's shoulder and once again smiled softly._

Klaus._ He was the subject of every thought, every memory, and every reason behind her attempt to leave everyone behind. She didn't want to talk about Klaus. Talking about Klaus meant that she had to face the very real truth that killing him meant the death of someone she knew – someone that Caroline loved. Tyler would die. They still didn't know who sired Rose which meant that there was too much at stake. _Caroline, Stefan, Katherine…Damon…

* * *

><p><em>Time to wake up, Elena.<em> She was eighteen years old but felt so much older; she felt it in her bones every time she tried to get comfortable in this _stupid _chair. Her mouth felt like she'd swallowed cotton balls and her mind seemed to be stuck in a perpetual haze. _It's the drugs, stupid._ Dwelling served no purpose. Her eyes shifted slightly to the fiery red head sitting patiently in front of her, scribbling on a clipboard that no doubt would extend her stay in this place even _further_. After her parents died, she had spent many hours with counselors hell bent on getting her to relive the moment when her fingers slipped from her fathers, the feeling of weightlessness as water rushed over her body, and the painful burning that accompanied the expulsion of river water from her lungs. Every second she relived it felt like white, hot needles under her skin and after a time she chose to put a smile on her face and pretend as though things were ok. She withdrew, spending hours in the cemetery writing her _feelings_ as her mother would have wanted her. It grounded her. It was _safe_. Then she met Stefan. He became _everything_ she was searching for the moment she discovered his secret. He was someone who _couldn't_ die. He would _never_ leave her. He grounded her in a way that she never thought for a moment she would ever find and she found peace.

"You will have to talk about it eventually," Mary explained with a slight shrug of her shoulder, her Scottish brogue jolting Elena from her thoughts.

Elena rolled her eyes, a soft snort escaping her lips as she continued to trace intricate patterns in the condensation created by the air conditioning meeting the sweltering Virginia heat outside. There wasn't _anything_ to talk about. Immortality was a ruse. Everything could be killed, the witches saw to that quite nicely. No one was safe. So many had died because of _her_ and now because she'd been so arrogant to _trust_ the Original Witch she had signed the death sentence of everyone she'd ever cared about. _How the _hell_ did things get so complicated?_

* * *

><p><em> How the <em>hell_ did things get so complicated?_ He slammed back the last of his bourbon, the slow burn a welcome sensation as he waited for the inevitable arrival of Mystic Falls High School's favorite History Teacher and pseudo-vampire hunter. Every muscle in his body felt like it was on fire, a side effect of the vervain pumped into his system over the last few days, and he fought to maintain a rigid control over the beast within. _Fucking Katherine._ It was _so_ much easier letting go. _So_ much easier being a dick. Never having to live up to _anyone's_ expectations. Never having to _answer_ to anyone. A sly grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as his eyes hardened slightly before he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder.

"Where the _hell_ have you been, Damon?"

The teacher looked as though he had aged ten years since the last time they'd shared a drink at the Grille. It wasn't surprising given his last tie to Isobel was lying in Mystic Falls Hospital after an unsuccessful attempt to _end her life_. It was enough to age anyone – hell, it had aged _him_ and he was always well into his third lifetime. Damon shifted uncomfortably in his chair and rattled the ice in his empty glass in an attempt to catch the bartender's attention.

"I've been indisposed," Damon responded without emotion, his eyes turned toward the many bottles of liquor lining the wall in front of him.

"Indisposed? _Indisposed?_" Ric's tone got progressively louder, his face got slightly redder, and his eyes grew darker as he slammed his hand on the bar in an attempt to make his point, "You _do_ realize that the woman you _profess_ to love is lying in a hospital bed _right now_ and you haven't made a single attempt to ensure that she's _alive_?"

The bartender watched the two carefully, pouring the bourbon as fast as possible before turning his attention to other patrons. Damon's jaw twitched, his fingers wrapping around the thick glass, and then downed the bourbon in a single gulp.

"I left her there alive," Damon choked as the burn from the alcohol hindered his ability to speak momentarily, though his bland tone was unmistakable.

"_You_ don't get to be a dick about this!" Ric snapped, barely above a whisper as he tried in vain to turn the vampire toward him.

Damon slowly turned to his friend, a sly grin on his face as his eyes sparkled with mirth and an undertone of irritation, "Ah, Ric. That's the beauty of it. I can _be_ whomever I _want._"

In that moment, the mild mannered History Teacher saw red and in an impulsive move grabbed the lapels of Damon's leather jacket and whipped him around, "Now listen to me, Salvatore. You don't get to call me at 2 o'clock in the morning and tell me that Elena tried to—tried to…and then call me again to tell me you may or _may not have_ done something stupid. You don't get to disappear for _four days_ after finding her after telling me not to tell _anyone_ with only a _witch_ for protection against Klaus. God damned it! You do _not_ get to do this, Damon!"

Damon's eyes darken slightly and Alaric wonders if perhaps he's crossed that imaginary line where he's pushed the vampire too far. The vampire looks from Alaric's hands, still firmly gripping his jacket, and then into the eyes of his friend, cocking his head to the side eerily devoid of any emotion.

"The witch owes me an allegiance—"

Alaric snorts, unable to control himself as he releases his hold on Damon's jacket, "Well, _that's_ a change from what usually happens when witches are involved with you."

Damon's lips quirked into a smile before slowly sliding back into a mask of indifference, "I'll see you around, Ric."

Ric shook his head in disbelief as he watched the vampire slide off the stool, straighten himself out, and begin to walk toward the exit, "She _needs_ you, _dick_! _We_ need you."

Damon froze momentarily; his shoulders tensing as though he fought his instinct to turn around, and then slowly made his way out of the Grille. The moment he crossed the threshold he felt the weight on his shoulders disappear. _ Ah, yes. I'd almost forgotten what this felt like._

* * *

><p>Elena found herself entranced by the beautiful sterling silver bracelet sitting on the bed table next to her lamp as it had every night since Dr. McCullough had gifted it to her when she first regained consciousness. The toggle clasp, with two opal spheres at either end, was delicate and attached to a snake chain that connected to a triangular vine piece that housed a Herkimer Diamond. The gemstone was so clear that it appeared almost like glass and stood out as it flanked a large, oval Lapis Lazuli stone set in roped silver. Her heart began to race as her fingers ghosted over the piece and she fought to suppress the shiver that raced down her spine. Her fingers wrapped around the delicate piece and she took in a ragged breath before clasping it around her wrist. <em>No more running away, Gilbert.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Elena shook her head adamantly and held her hands out in protest, "No! No way! I will <em>not_ wear that!"_

_Mary looked down at the delicate bracelet and frowned, "It's a talisman, Elena. Meant to send you a Guide through your dreams – someone you trust implicitly. It will help you heal."_

"_The stone—"_

"_Lapis Lazuli offers protection, Elena. This is why it is part of the daylight ring spell. Of course, it is so much more than just a protection stone," Mary smiled softly as she sat down on the corner of Elena's hospital bed._

"_What do you mean?" Elena asked quietly as she regarded the bracelet warily._

"_Lapis Lazuli can help bring matters more clearly to the mind and is one of the most powerful stones for healing. It is also a symbol of love – one that is forever faithful," Mary explained quietly as her finger gently stroked the smooth stone._

_Elena shifted slightly and leaned forward, her eyes taking in the beauty of the piece, "What are the other stones?"_

_Mary held the bracelet up and pointed to two, small stones at the end of the toggle clasp, "These are opals. It symbolizes confidence, purity and serenity. It provides balance."_

"_The glass?"_

_Mary chuckled as she pointed to the clear stone flanking the Lapis, "This is actually a Herkimer Diamond. It is used for communication. It allows the wearer to release stress and understand the messages sent through dreams."_

"_Oh. Who will be my Guide? Do I get to choose?"_

"_Yes and no," Mary set the bracelet on the bedside table and smiled warmly, "Your mind already _knows_ who should guide you. I must warn you, what you experience in your dreams will be _very_ real."_

"_So, this will be someone who is living?" Elena folded her arms across her chest as she glared at the piece of jewelry._

"_Not necessarily. It will be someone you feel safe with and with whom you share a bond. Someone living or dead. Your Guide will help you explore the feelings you will not share with me. I'd like to send you home, Elena. But I can't do that if you refuse to help me help you."_

_Elena nodded slowly and reached for a glass of water, her mind reeling with the information. A part of her was afraid that the moment she closed her eyes that she would see her mom and it would kill her. A sense of dread washed over her and she resolved in that moment that she would be able to do this herself. She just needed time. _

* * *

><p>Elena felt the immediate sensation of being in that lucid state where her conscious mind seemed to recognize the dream but felt the pull of reality. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around the bracelet that adorned her wrist and she frowned deeply. <em>This is stupid.<em> Spirit Guide. Spirit Quest. It really didn't matter how the hell it was described, Elena Gilbert had no desire to come face to face with anyone who might force her to examine how her choices led her to this very point. Dr. McCullough said it would be cathartic, but in the end it would be painful. _Everything_ was painful from the ever present weight in her chest to the sensation that she was not quite in control of her feelings. Her gaze dropped to the bright blue stone in the center and she immediately felt a pang of regret for her actions. _Lapis Lazuli. _

She'd been in the hospital for four days and not once had _he_ come. Stefan refused to talk about him. Her friends certainly didn't care whether he came or went and Alaric was struggling with his _own_ inner demons to focus on his undead friend. A part of her couldn't blame, wouldn't blame him, for staying as far away from her as possible. Everything she touched _died_. Another part of her wanted to blame him. Wanted to scream at him. Wanted to hit him over and over until he explained why he allowed her indecision to cut him so deeply.

Folding her arms across her chest she began to see the blurred edges of her dream come into focus and she could make out the shape of another person standing several feet away from her. The black leather jacket and raven hair were enough of a sign to tell her that the object of her inner monologue was there, in the flesh so to speak, and in that moment all she could feel was irrational anger.

"You wanna tell me how the hell I'm here?" he deadpanned as he turned on his feet to face her, the light in his eyes dimmed considerably and his body seemed coiled to strike.

"Damon," her nostrils flared as her eyes flashed with anger, her arms uncrossing as she clenched her fists at her side.

"Hello Elena," he cocked his head to one side as his eyes seemed to travel her form and in that moment she realized the enormity of the situation. _He flipped the switch._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Vampire Diaries. I am not LJ Smith, Julie Plec (though we share a first name), Kevin Williamson, or any of the other phenomenal writers of the CW show.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you once again for your awesome reviews, story alerts, and favorites! Thank you to _Saggie25_ who reviews faithfully, but I can't respond. To all those who don't review – no problem…this one will still be here – for however long it takes. Thank you for being patient. Also, Ms. _CreepingMuse_ – haven't forgotten you! Hope all is well!

**Soundtrack:** "My Skin" – Natalie Merchant

_No. Nonono. _This _wasn't_ happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. Her vision blurred, the hot sting of tears muting the severity of the man standing in front of her. His eyes were dark, his jaw set, and his body appeared coiled to strike. Her breath hitched as her body began to tremble and she wondered if he could hear her heart race even here in a dream world. It was like being doused with kerosene, lit on fire, and then subsequently dunked into a frozen lake in an attempt to somehow soothe the burn. In all of the scenarios that played out in her mind as she battled with the decision to wear the damned talisman or sort all of this out on her own, never did she expect to come face to face with her _greatest_ fear. Damon Salvatore _sans_ humanity. How the hell was this supposed to help her? How the hell was _he_ supposed to be her Guide?_ God damned witches!_

Her fists clench at her side as her eyes danced with barely contained fury and suddenly an overwhelming, irrational need to lash out consumed her, "Un-_freakin'_-believable! What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

He quirked an eyebrow in that infuriating way that made her want to wipe the smug look from his face, "How should _I_ know, Elena? I was in the middle of a _very_ important game of naked _Twister_."

_He did the _eye_ thing. Really?_ "My apologies for interrupting your regularly scheduled night of debauchery," she replied with as much venom as she could muster, folding her arms across her chest as she glared disapprovingly at him.

He clapped his hands, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took several steps toward her as his eyes seemed to look right through her, "Well, I guess that settles it. _Judgy_ Elena comes through _loud_ and _clear_ in my dreams. Just once I would like to have one with _Horny_ Elena—"

A loud crack echoed through the makeshift room and Elena watched in horror as Damon's face recoiled as her open palm connected with his cheek. _Shit_! Her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped in surprise, watching him as he slowly turned his body towards her once again and opened his jaw as though attempting to remove the sting.

"For a tiny thing you really pack a punch, Gilbert," he rolled his eyes as he rubbed his cheek gingerly, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I didn't mean—"

He held a hand up to stop her apology and shook his head, "Yeah. You did. You _always_ do."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she demanded as the brief mortification she'd felt was replaced with growing anger.

"Aaaand _Indignant_ Elena makes her presence known," he smirked as he took a step out of her reach, "I wonder how long it will take for _Suicidal_ Elena to show up. Oh wait! She already _has_!"

Flinching at his words, she frowned and felt all of the blood rush from her face, "Yeah? Well, Damon the _Dick_ is here with full battle armor!"

"Your point being?"

"You flipped the switch, Damon! Why?" she demanded as she closed the gap between them, her pointer finger digging sharply in his chest to punctuate each word out of her mouth.

"I'm not going to explain myself to a figment of my imagination," he told her with a huff, his left hand grabbing her finger lightly and pushing it to the side to avoid getting poked further.

"This is real, Damon," she told him through gritted teeth and pushed lightly against his shoulder in an attempt to get him to snap out of it.

"You're lying in a hospital bed, Elena. I'm _somewhere_ doing _something_," he shook his head, his hand waving in a large circle around him, "_This_ is most definitely not real. If I didn't know better I'd think Katherine had a hand in this."

"_Katherine_?" Elena recoiled in shock, her eyes filling with worry as she seemed to finally _see_ the man before her, "Are you off vervain?"

"What the fuck do you care, Elena? _Dream_ Elena."

_I did this_. She reached out to grasp his arm, knowing that he could throw her off in an instant if he wanted to, and shook him lightly. Her eyes met his with concern and defiance, her nose turning a light shade of pink the longer her emotions swirled like a tornado in her mind causing silent tears to stream down her cheeks.

"I _care_ Damon!"

"You have a funny way of showing it," he told her coldly, his eyes travelling to where her hand gripped his arm in clear warning that she was dangerously close to crossing a line.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you? It's like the last two years never happened!"

"I might say the same to _you_!" the growl was low in his chest as he wrenched her hand from his shoulder and encroached on her personal space, "You do _not_ get to _judge_ me. If I want to forget the last two years that is my _fucking_ prerogative, Elena."

"No! You're better than this!" she shook her head in disappointment as she reached out to gently cup his cheek, "Damon, you're _better_ than this!"

His eyes closed momentarily, the warmth of her hand pulling him into a false sense of security. The dull ache in his chest returned in that moment, reminding him why it was so damned inconvenient to care. He needed the darkness. He needed the sadness. He needed the rage. It was the only thing that kept him from throwing his ring into the quarry and meeting the sun. Every step, every breath, every drop of blood felt like the weight of the world sat squarely on his shoulders. He felt the burning in his lungs as the image of her in a halo of blood came unbidden and he had to fight the bitter rage that threatened to pour out of him. He was so _tired_. God, he was so _tired_.

"I loved you, Elena," his words were broken, his face crestfallen as he shook his head slowly and once again took a step back, anticipating her wrath.

"You never let me explain—" the words seemed to get caught in her throat as her heart sped up along with her breathing. Her heart broke, the final piece of armor shattering to the ground as she watched him struggle with his own emotions, fighting to keep them hidden from her.

"You know what's wrong with you? You're _terrified_! You have the audacity to tell me that my _love_ is a problem, but you're _terrified_ because it's _your_ love that's the problem. Everything has to be _your_ way, Elena, and on _your_ terms. You know what? It's your _selflessness_ that is the most _selfish_ thing about you! You're not afraid of becoming _Katherine_, Elena. You're afraid you already _are_!"

"Stop it!" she whispered, recoiling as though he'd physically slapped her; large, fat tears streamed down her face as he laid her entire soul to bear in a way that only Damon Salvatore could.

"How do you explain _this_?" he snarled, his fingers wrapping around her right wrist and twisting it so that she was forced to look at the damage she'd caused, "Seems to me you stopped caring so why the _fuck_ do you _care_ if I don't? Seems like pot calling kettle, Elena."

"Stop it!" she told him more forcefully between clenched teeth, furious that his words cut her deeply, and tried in vain to stop her chest from heaving as she struggled not to fall into a full blown panic attack.

"Why _should_ I?" his eyes flashed a brilliant cobalt as he bent forward slightly so he could meet her gaze, "Everyone thinks little Elena was _attacked_ but we know the truth, don't we?"

"Why are you doing this?" the tears began to stream down her cheeks in earnest as he tightened his grip on her wrist.

"No one else has the balls to tell you what they _really_ feel, Elena! They're too afraid to _break_ you! Little Elena. Fragile Elena. _Human_ Elena!" he growled as he took a large step backward in attempt to put what physical distance he could between them when emotionally he knew that he would never be able to sever their ties, "You just don't _get_ it, do you? "We spent _months_ trying to keep you _alive_ and you pissed that all away!"

"I was trying to _save_ you!" her teeth chattered, the words coming out in breathless sobs and wrapped her arms around her body as the force of his emotions overwhelmed her.

He laughed darkly, humorlessly as he closed the distance between them before she could even blink and grabbed her roughly by the upper arms, "_Save_ me? _Save_ us?"

"Yes!" she whispered, her body trembling in fear as she met his heated gaze.

"Your death would _destroy_ us! Me! Your near death fucking _destroyed_ me!" he spat, his fangs descending and his eyes shifting from blue to red as the spider web of black branched out under his eyes making him look like the Angel of Death, "I _found_ you in a sea of blood! So much _fucking_ blood, Elena! Did you stop and _think_ for one _Goddamned_ minute what that would _do_ to whomever _found_ you? No. Of course not. Stupid! Selfish! You want death, Elena? You want to die so damned badly?"

"Damon, no!" she cried out as she tried in vain to pull away from him, his body language betraying the thoughts in his mind, "You can't! This is _real_! This isn't a _dream_!"

He rolled his eyes as his nostrils flared, the scent of her fear washing over him fueling his bloodlust, "Right. Like _you_ would ever give a _shit_ about me, Elena! This is my way of finding _closure_. I'm gone, Elena. When I wake up, I'm gone."

"No!" she grabbed a hold of his leather jacket, tears continuing to stream down her face as she realized just how badly she had broken the man whom had been her rock for months, "I'm sorry Damon! I'm sorry!"

"I loved you, Elena," he whispered as he brought his mouth closer to the curve of her neck, his lips brushing lightly over the sensitive skin, "But it wasn't enough. It was _never_ enough for you. No matter how much I changed it was never enough."

She whimpered then, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to end this particular nightmare, "No! That's not true! Please, Damon! Don't do this! Please!"

"Death. You prefer death to _life. W_ith me. Stefan. Jeremy. Ric. Blondie. Dog boy. Fine. I could never say _no_ to you, Elena. Why should I deny you what you want most?" his voice was hollow, vacant and deadly as she felt the gentle scrape of his teeth.

_Oh God!_ _What have I done?_ Her tears flowed freely, her body wracked with audible sobs as the man she'd grown to depend upon and love, despite her every attempt to resist what her heart knew before her mind accepted the reality, pierced her tender flesh. A cry ripped through her throat as she pushed hard against his chest, whispering and pleading with him to stop before it was too late. She swallowed the lump in her throat as her body slumped forward, her head falling to his shoulder as the darkness pulled her under.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I _still_ do not own the Vampire Diaries.

**Author's Notes:** Lots of new followers. Welcome This one is a bridge…

**Soundtrack:** Love the Way You Lie (Piano) - Rihanna

A peaceful slumber is a rarity amongst vampires; the lightest noises rouse the younger ones to the point of near insanity. Sleep _isn't_ a necessity, but it is one last vestige of humanity that most have difficulty letting go. He avoided hospitals like the _plague_ not because of what they symbolize but because of what his senses uncovered inside. The sweet tang of blood hung in the air like a cheap perfume, calling to him like a Siren's song. He sat by her bedside for hours, watching her brow furrow and listening to her soft whimpers, before he slid three plastic chairs together to create a makeshift bed. His nerves were on fire and he felt a current of energy run through him as lay down in the most comfortable position he could manage under the circumstances and willed his mind to calm. _I have to beat this._ His thoughts were weary, the constant struggle to maintain his sobriety a heavy burden that few seemed to understand, respect, and support. Someone sat with her every night, though she would never know it, and when he'd promised Caroline that he would stand he never gave it a second thought as to how it might affect him. As the sandman pulled him under, his last thoughts were of the young girl sleeping restlessly beside him and how he needed to be strong, for her despite the gnawing guilt creeping into his gut about his activities for the last few weeks. _So fucking complicated._

* * *

><p>Hot tears streamed down her face soaking her pillow as her fingers grasped the bed sheets in an attempt to anchor herself to <em>something<em>, _anything_ as she fought to regain consciousness. The air constricted, as if the hospital room were squeezing her tight, and her entire body convulsed upward in one giant gasp for air. A hoarse scream ripped from her throat as her eyes flew open, surveying the cold and sterile surroundings but not seemingly recognizing a bit of it. Her right hand flew to her neck, trembling as her fingertips touched hot, sticky liquid making her recoil in fear. Digging her heels in the bed she scrambled backward until she felt the cold, hard steel of the headboard against her back. With shaky hands that could not seem to obey what her mind dictated Elena fumbled with the clasp on talisman that adorned her wrist with a desperation that manifested itself in soft whimpers. _No…Damon…no._

* * *

><p>He clawed his way to wakefulness, trembling and sweating as if after a great exertion. His heart beat slowly, like the even, rhythmic beat the drummer who led the troops into battle, and matched the dull throb in his head. <em>Euphoria<em>. His mouth opened to call out, but quickly snapped shut as he felt a curious tickle at the corner of his mouth. Slowly he rose to a seated position; the low quality cotton sheets twisted around his body in a macabre representation of a serpent, and slowly brought a trembling hand to his lips. His fingertips smeared a thick, sticky liquid over his chin and his eyes were wide as saucers as his brain registered the significance of his heartbeat. _Blood. _Rubbing the liquid between his fingertips, Damon frowned as he fought to remember how he'd spent last night. He snarled in frustration as he attempted to throw his legs over the side of his bed, a feeling of dread and panic slowly building from within. Snaking his tongue over his thumb and index finger he slowly licked the drying liquid from his body. _I've tasted this blood before_. What little blood he had circulating in his body ran cold as the magnitude of the situation was not lost on him. In an instant his field of vision narrowed, his hearing seemed to focus on the sound of his throat swallowing the boulder size lump that threatened to cut off his oxygen, and he found himself rising to his feet slowly, carefully, as the slow prickling of numbness washed over him.

* * *

><p>A blood curdling scream ripped him from his slumber, causing him to violently start awake and land unceremoniously on the floor. In an instant he was crouched low to the floor, his arm deflecting a small, thin object that sailed weightlessly through the air. The heady scent of blood and fear caused his nostrils to flare and he closed his eyes in shame as the he felt the heat of desire bubble up from his belly.<p>

"Stefan?" it was her voice that roused him from his momentary inner struggle, causing his head to snap in her general direction.

He was beside her in an instant, watching her slowly hit the back of her head against the plaster wall in some futile attempt to erase whatever it was that seemed to have a control over her mind, "Elena! Stop it! Elena!"

His hands grabbed her upper arms painfully, wrenching her forward as his eyes seemed to be drawn to the two puncture wounds on the side of her neck. Frowning, his eyes searched hers for any explanation and she felt herself wilt like a flower under his heated stare. _How the fuck did those get there? Did I put them there? Shit!_

"He didn't know!" she whispered as her bottom lip quivered, unshed tears clouding her vision and stinging her nose.

A sense of relief washed over him and slowly confusion replaced the space it once occupied, "Who? Who did this to you?"

"He thought it was a dream! He didn't believe me!" Elena grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him with what little strength she had, her eyes wild with fear.

"Who?" Stefan tried again, this time shaking her gently in an attempt to get her to focus on him.

"Her Guide," was the soft answer that came from the doorway.

Stefan cocked his head to one side, confused by the doctor's words, "I'm lost here, doc."

With a deep sigh Mary made her way into the hospital room, her hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Elena's ear before smiling sadly, "I'm not surprised, Elena."

"I broke him," Elena confessed as she blinked several times, tears streaming down her cheeks as her body sagged against Stefan.

"You didn't break him, Elena," Mary smiled sympathetically as she reached for a large gauze pad to cover the bite wound on the young girl's neck, "Fractured him, perhaps. But Damon isn't broken."

Stefan looked from Elena to Mary and back again as though both women had grown an extra head, "_Damon_? My _brother_? _He _did this?"

"Stefan, please—"

Taking a step back as though burned he shook his head slowly, "Impossible! Damon isn't even _in_ Mystic Falls! He left three days ago."

"He's gone?" Elena croaked and swung her legs over the side of the bed, "We have to find him!"

"Elena!" Stefan placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back to the bed, "You're not going anywhere!"

"He thinks he _killed_ me, Stefan! He was trying to _kill_ me in that dream!" Elena snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously, "Call him. Tell him. Please! Stefan!"

Stefan closed his eyes and massaged his temples, not understanding a single word that seemed to come out of Elena's mouth but felt obligated to do whatever she asked of him. He always did. With a sigh he pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly sent off a text message. The last thing he wanted to do was have a conversation with his brother if his emotional state matched Elena's at that moment. With a heavy sigh he lowered himself to the chairs he'd found no comfort in the night before and wondered how the _hell_ his life had gotten so fucking screwed up. _Katherine was right. No good will come of this._

* * *

><p><em>No. Nonono. NO!<em> His upper lip quivered and his jaw clenched as he repeated the words over and over in his mind in some sick attempt to somehow discount the evidence as it present itself. He squeezed his eyes shut as he reached for his discarded jeans, his hands reaching into the front pockets searching for his iPhone. Swallowing the bile he felt rising in his throat, he pressed the small button to awaken the device and then slid his index finger across the screen to unlock it. His eyes focused on the wallpaper behind all of his apps and a feeling of dread washed over him, sending his breathing from even draws to short pants. _Fuck!_ His fingers raced over the keypad, finding the number he needed in an instant, and then placed the phone quickly against his ear as he began to pace the length of his room.

"Come on!" Damon growled, his eyes flashing in anger as he gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white, "Pick up! Pick up! Pickuppickuppickup!"

_"And good morning to you too," _the lazy drawl of his best friend broke through the second the familiar click of a connection was made.

"Are you at the hospital?" Damon blurted out as he ran a hand through his hair, his muscles tense as he stopped his forward momentum.

_"It's 6am, Damon. Visiting hours aren't until—"_

"Fuck!" Damon cursed as his fingers wrapped around his hair, pulling it in a fit of frustration.

_"What is going on?"_ Ric asked quickly, concern evident in his tone.

"Fuck!" Damon cursed again a he threw a left jab into the wall, splintering the wood and plaster beneath his knuckles.

_"Damon! What the hell is going on?"_

"Get to the hospital. I need to know she's ok," he looked down at his bloody knuckles; splinters marred the once perfect skin and sent shard of white, hot pain through his body.

_"Jesus, Damon! Just go yourself! It isn't as though—"_

"I'm nowhere _near_ Mystic Falls," Damon sneered through clenched teeth, his temper flaring once again as his vision slowly saw things in a red hue signaling his transformation into the monster he once prided himself in controlling.

_"Then come _back_, you asshole!"_

"Get the fuck to the hospital and see if I killed her before I come back to Mystic Falls and kill you _myself_!" Damon howled through the phone, the cords in his neck bulging as he fought to restrain himself before he brought the entire building to the ground in a fit of rage.

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Damon wondered if he'd inadvertently destroyed his phone, but the clearing of the history teacher's voice let him know that he still had his connection, _"Damon, what the hell are you—"_

"Just _get_ to the fucking—"

_"Out the door. In the car. Key is in the ignition. So talk," _Ric cut him off mid rant as he turned the key in the ignition, the hiccup of the starter and the dull roar of the engine letting Damon know that he'd not been lied to.

Damon ran a hand over his face and let out a long, uneven sigh as he slowly made his way back to the bed feeling every minute of his one hundred and fifty plus years. It was a _dream_. God, he thought it was a fucking _dream_! He wanted to _end_ her and felt the rush of excitement as he smelled her fear. Her _fear_. _Christ!_ He hadn't believed her. He should have believed her. She was real. Warm. _I _wanted _it to be a dream. I _wanted_ to give her _exactly_ what she wanted so I could be free. I wanted to be free._


End file.
